Collide
by My Sharpie Is Green
Summary: A collection of MADDISON drabbles. Ratings will range from K to T.
1. Fata Morgana

**Disclaimer:** I do not own ABC, Shonda Rhimes, Grey's Anatomy, nor anyone involved with it. Some Maddison baby/abortion drama, Addison-centric. Right now I'm thinking this will end up as a source for random, short ficlets involving relationships between characters, since 622 words isn't really enough for an individual post. Regardless, tell me what you think when you **_REVIEW_**.

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As human beings, we are easily fooled. Our eyes and our hearts can betray us, deceived by illusions both simple and elaborate. It can happen to anyone - the time you walked up and began to talk to your friend only to realize you'd singled out the wrong person, or sent the wrong memo to the wrong person in the office. Simple illusions are easy to fix – you blush, you apologize, you walk away. But what happens when you become fooled by something much more complex? What happens when your heart is deceived so thoroughly that you don't know what the truth is anymore?_

**Fata Morgana**

She's lying on his bed, waiting for him to come home and wondering what she'll say when he does. If she'll say anything at all. It would be easier to pretend, to smile when he walked through the door and kiss him and pretend like things were normal, but she doesn't think that she can do that, because things _aren't_ normal.

And as she stares at the calendar flipped to the month, the date circled in red marker, she wishes they were. She wishes that she didn't feel nauseous when it came into her peripheral vision, and that she didn't feel like crying when she thought of him taking it down.

More painful to imagine is the look he'll wear across his features when he notices the suitcase, the way that she has desecrated the closet she organized so carefully when she moved in two months ago, back when things seemed so overwhelmingly perfect. She hopes that this is for the better, but sometimes she can't be sure.

Six o'clock. An hour until he's due to be out of surgery and two hours until she has to leave to make her flight. Slowly she walks to the wall, her eyes focused on the circled, but otherwise empty, square. It was insignificant now, and she carefully pulls the pushpin out, closing the calendar and rolling it slightly before placing it tenderly in the trashcan she keeps in the bedroom for old magazines and clothing tags. Her gaze lingers for a moment as the gravity, the finality, of what she's done resonates in her mind, as does the weight of his actions, resulting in a deafening echo in her mind.

She can't stay here; she can't wait until he gets home. She knows what happens when he has the chance to explain things, to be sweet and charming. After all, as soon as he uses The Look, she knows she'll lose her will and stay. She'll call Richard and refund the ticket, and that can't be an option.

She reaches into her pocket and takes out the folded receipt from her plane ticket. Carefully fixing the creases, she tacks it up on the wall, where the calendar was hanging moments before, and scrawls a note telling him that it was a mistake, living with him. That she's sorry, but she couldn't do it and she hopes he understands.

Picking up her suitcase, she calls the cab company and takes the elevator to the lobby, her eyes on the street outside.

He would have been a terrible father.

_As humans, we fall prey to illusions every day – the simple, the mundane, the elaborate, and the painful. Oftentimes, our pride gets in the way. We deny that we've been tricked, that what we saw was not all we thought that it would be. Sometimes, however, the only way to move on is to accept the fact that we've been fooled – to apologize and move on, and hope that things return to the way they were…the way they should be._

_And, sometimes, that hope is the only illusion we can bear._


	2. Undone

_Yes, this is now MADDISON centric. I'm not saying I don't own GA again. Nope, nope, nope, can't make me._

**Undone**

She had never quite gotten the hang of not getting involved. The thought of being surgical, of being detached from the person she was cutting open, the person who had put their entire life in her hands, was pleasant. Whimsical, even, but far too idealistic, even for her. Even after Richard's first lesson in patient relations, and every lesson that had followed, the truth was, she loved her patients.

That was the problem with being a doctor, especially one with a neonatal specialty. She had always been a sucker for babies. No such thing as an ugly baby, she'd told her mother when she was younger. Cute or ugly didn't matter in medicine. Cute or ugly didn't decide who lived and who died. That had been the hard part. It was hard to think that these helpless, adorable children wouldn't even get a chance to make something out of themselves.

But sometimes, in times like these, she thought that maybe it wasn't such a travesty after all.

She had lost a patient on the table. Not just the child, but the mother as well. A high-risk pregnancy. That's what they called it in the neonatal field. Actually, they called it something longer and more technical, with Latin roots, but that's how they said it when they were explaining things to patients. To patients' families.

Those patients were her least favorite. They were the ones that she was most likely to lose, and she didn't like to lose patients. She didn't like calling a time of death. She didn't like walking out into the waiting room in scrubs and explaining to a father who had, a few moments before, had the world at his feet and explaining that his baby was dead.

This baby had no father. The mother was young, barely seventeen, said that the dad didn't deserve a child. She understood that, better than this girl probably knew. This girl…this girl was Addison without the medical degree. And, once again, she had gotten too involved.

She died at 15:17.

And, at 15:27, Addison finds herself leaning against the wall in the hallway, thinking of the two blue lines that she had woken up to that morning and wondering how she'll tell this poor girl's mother that her daughter isn't breathing, simply because she tried to give an innocent life a chance.

Mark Sloan walks down the hallway and she quickly moves. She goes to tell a mother that he daughter isn't coming home, trying to pretend that she wasn't just on the verge of tears herself. Addison has a history of getting involved.

And, sometimes, she hates her job.


	3. This Is A Forgery

This takes place before the affair. I can see Addison having really, truly loathed Mark before she and Derek got married – after all, he had eleven years to warm up to her before the affair. A little exploration of their relationship pre-wedding, and Addison's nerves and reservations about the nuptials.

**This Is A Forgery**

_Hello, my name is Addison Forbes Montgomery. Addison Forbes Montgomery Shepherd. Addison… My name is Addison…_

"Can you hurry up? Jesus, how long does it take you people to – "

The dressing room door flew open and a seething Addison stepped out, her lips pursed as she glared at Mark Sloan. "This one," she asked, irritated, "what about this one?"

"It's nice," he said. The disinterested tone in his voice was shabbily masked. He was inspecting his nails – a sure sign of boredom. Anyone who knew him understood that a bored Mark Sloan was a dangerous Mark Sloan.

"Be serious. I didn't invite you to sit there looking surly, Mark."

"Then why did you invite me?"

Addison sighed, her nostrils flaring as she leaned against the wall of the entryway. "All of my bridesmaids were busy on the only day I could book an appointment. Asking you was a last resort."

"Flattering, really. I think you just wanted an excuse to get me alone." He flashed her his trademark grin. "You know you love my rugged good looks and raw sex appeal."

"You're making me nauseous."

"Sure it's not morning sickness?"

She was raring up to hit him when a dressing room attendant came in. "Are you finding everything alright? …Oh, how interesting. Not many brides bring the rooms with them to fittings.

"Oh, no, he's not the groom. He's just the worst man."


	4. Not An Addict

So, continuing in typical Grey's fashion, this is also titled after a song (by K's Choice in this case). Enjoy.

**Not An Addict**

She peers down at the young woman from above the frames of her glasses, giving her an inquisitive glare that made one thing clear – she did not believe her. The woman looked as though she had been beleaguered with the filth and despair that filled the alleys of New York City, grime invading her cheeks and a scar above her right eye. Not her only scar, if she was correct in her guess.

"I'm not an addict." Her voice was like shaky; her lips were smeared carelessly with lipstick and she was biting her lip. She fidgeted on the table, wringing her hands in her lap.

"Right… I need you to realize that if you aren't honest with us, we can't help you."

The woman winced and looked up at her, brows furrowed. "I can't be … I'm having a baby."

Violating protocol, Addison stretches out her arm and rests her hand on the mother's shoulder. "I can refer you to an addiction counselor."

"I'm not an addict. I _can't_ be an addict."

Addison frowns sympathetically. "The first step to progress is admittance."

Her patient looks at Addison sideways, glaring at her. "You don't know what dependency is like."

Sighing, Addison sits down and begins to explain options to the patient. Pulling out her legal pad, she pretends to make notes. Instead, she writes the following words in her looping handwriting:

Step one – I am addicted to Mark Sloan's lips.


	5. Disarm

(Song by the Smashing Pumpkins)

**Disarm**

To kill germs, to really slaughter them and make sure they wouldn't hightail it back once the faucet is turned off, a person is supposed to wash their hands for two minutes.

Medical school taught Addison better. She could easily stand in front of a sink for five minutes, water on the hottest setting, and still feel dirty. She's always been a fan of "cleanliness is next to godliness," which is a bit ironic when she thinks about it. The things she does to her hands to keep them clean… She can barely feel them anymore. Her senses of touch and temperature are almost gone. She hardly even notices when Derek holds her hands at night anymore.

But then _he_ came into her OR. He rudely shoved his dirty, filthy, manwhore hands under her meticulously clean sink and those same disgusting hands grazed her clean ones. And, even though she made a face at the time, the truth was that she could vividly feel every movement of his skin on hers.


	6. Double Helix

This is the first chapter without a song title as inspiration for the song, but I'm sure that the words "double helix" are in a song somewhere. Also, for those who don't know – PKU is a disease in which a person can't digest phenylaline. If left untreated, the phenylaline builds up in the brain and eventually kills the person. More Addek here than Maddison, still in NY. I swear I'll move on over to Seattle eventually!

Double Helix 

She's been preparing for this day for weeks, and yet she still doesn't know how she'll get the words out of her parched mouth. She's sitting on the foot of the bed, breathing in what feels like an air of expectancy instead of oxygen. She looks up, running a smooth hand through fiery hair. She can't hold off. After all, this ghastly and horrifying thing that she's doing? It's for the best, or at least that's what she tells herself.

"Derek, you and I? We're doctors. And because we're doctors, we know biology textbooks in and out. I mean, we know everything there is to know about the human body. It's our job. And because we know all of this, we should both know about DNA." No one interrupts her, so she presses on. "But, just in case, I'll refresh your memory. A strand of DNA is made up of two separate strands of completely opposite nucleotide bases. Right? Right. And sometimes, that DNA mutates, causing diseases. …Like PKU. A baby's born with PKU, we diagnose it, we give it a special diet, and it's fine."

The atmosphere is heavy and tense. This isn't making sense, and she realizes she should have gone about this a different way. Still, there's no backing out. It's too late for that.

"Let's pretend, for analogy's sake, that you and I, together, are a strand of DNA. Does that make sense?" No reply greets her. "I'm a strand of nucleotides, you're a strand of nucleotides, and we come together, and we mesh, and it's…_perfect_. Except, except my side gets a mutation, okay? And all of the sudden, we've got PKU."

Dead silence fills the bedroom. The light is off; the room is dark and she can't see a thing.

"And so we've got PKU, but we went on a special diet and we're okay now, okay? But I just thought I'd tell you about the PKU, because you deserve to know, because it's my fault we had the PKU, okay? It was my mutation, not yours."

The nonsense words continue to spill out of her delicate mouth; she's reminded of the taste of the ivory soap her mother used to use on er as a child and realizes the aftertaste of her next words will be far bitterer than any bath product.

"See, Derek… the PKU is…an affair. Not…not a one time, random guy in a bar affair, but a real, true, crazy, adulterous, 'I'm a horrible person' affair."

She swallows. Her eyelids close and she breathes in deeply.

"The PKU is an affair and the mutation…the mutation was Mark."

She blinks up at the wall, half-expecting feedback on her soliloquy.

Hearing nothing, she falls back on the mattress, the familiar sting of tears in her eyes.


	7. Breathe

A little moment back at New York. I swear the next one will be in Seattle – seriously!

**Breathe**

They're on opposite ends of the living room, red in the face from screaming. She's standing behind the couch, her long fingers gripping the cushion as he leans against the wall, staring at her the way that he does when he's trying to find her Achilles heel. No more, though – he won't find it tonight. She hardly has one anymore, she's so weak.

"Addison, please…"

"No, Derek, I can't do this anymore. No more 'please'. Not anymore."

"I've messed up, I know. I understand, Add-"

She stares at him through hooded eyes, her mouth dropping and a frown crossing her face. "No."

"What?" His head is cocked to the side, his arms crossed protectively over his chest.

"No. You don't know, you don't understand – not for one second." She can hear her voice shaking, but she ignores it. "You think you understand, but you don't. You just analyze _everything_ until it barely exists."

"I'm doing my best."

"You're a liar."

"What do you expect? I have my own practice, I have patients. I'm a brain surgeon."

"You're a son of a bitch."

"Calm down, you don't mean it."

She freezes, jaw hanging, tears in her eyes, watching him in disbelief. "What do I have to do to get you angry?" Her voice starts off as a whisper, quickly escalating. "Why are you so fucking complacent?"

He simply stares her down, waiting out the tirade. Furious, she lifts up the cushion she's been clutching to, hurling it across the room at him. He ducks quickly, surprised by the action.

"What was that for?"

She's sobbing now, choking back bile and words she might regret. "I'm sleeping with Mark! I'm sleeping with your best friend and the fact that I might be having an affair has never even crossed your idiotic, brain surgeon mind." She stops, feeling her chest rise and fall as her pulse beats, tears streaming. "Happy?"

"What do you want to watch?"

Addison opens her eyes and looks over at Derek, sitting beside her on the leather sofa, remote in hand.

She looks down at the lukewarm dinner sitting on her lap and up at the menu.

"You pick."


	8. Stupid

Set after the end of 3.02, I Am A Tree. Song by Sarah McLachlan.

**Stupid**

She needed a day for drinking. She didn't need a day for transcontinental booty calls.

It figures, then, that things happened the way they did. That she would pick up the phone in a drunken haze, wooing Mark to Seattle with God knows what reasoning. That Dr. Stevens would find her at a bar, barely able to sit contained in her stool, and pass judgment – Dr. Stevens, whom had been avoiding the hospital for days now, of all people. And, finally, that Mark would walk out of her shower – without even having the good grace to put a towel around himself first – just as Derek had stepped in through the door, possibly to apologize, to say something, to take her back.

So much for God knowing that she needed a day to drink. She might as well have stayed at work, if only she could find a way to avoid Meredith Grey.

In spite of herself, she can't help but wonder whether or not Meredith would hyphenate Derek's name like she did, and, if she didn't, if that meant that Meredith had more faith in the marriage than she had.

Addison thinks she'd give up 'Grey' – after all, she's sick of being known as 'Ellis's daughter'.

She hears the door slam as Derek walks out, wincing as her head throbs. Mark is looking expectantly at her and she bites her lip, rubbing her temples and sighing.

"Do you want me to go?"

"Please."

"I'll come back."

"You do that."

He gets dressed and walks out, leaving her alone in the hotel room.

At least her tear ducts aren't too proud to cry anymore.


	9. Here It Goes Again

Back to New York. I know, I know. But they have eleven years of NY back story and less than a year of Seattle now story, so it makes sense. Song by "Ok Go".

**Here It Goes Again**

He's leaning against the counter as she's prepping for surgery, staring at him from underneath a quizzically raised brow. She's having a hard time grasping the fact that their internship will be ending soon and an even tougher time adapting to the silver ring on her finger. Addison fastens her scrub cab and glares at him as he grins in his special way, giving her the Mark face. Smug bastard.

She waits until she's finished washing her hands in the sink until she acknowledges him. "Alright Sloan, spill. What on earth do you want?"

"What makes you think I want anything? Maybe I just enjoy your company."

She laughs. "Hardly. You're not even scrubbing in on this surgery. You're on scut."

"I _should_ be scrubbing in, though. She's my patient. You stole her, or are you in denial about that?"

"Your father died, Sloan."

"As far as I'm concerned, he's been dead a long time."

Addison turns to face him, maintaining eye contact. "You only want to treat her because you _like_ her."

"I have a girlfriend, Montgomery. No use getting huffy about the patient."

"Well, congratulations. I didn't think that was possible."

He narrows his eyes. "Hilarious."

"Oh. Right. I get it. I was supposed to be jealous."

"Weren't you?"

"Sorry, not my type."

He frowns, then places his hands over her cheeks and kisses her lightly. "Jealous now?"

"Sloan."

"Yes."

"Do me a favor."

"Go to the on-call room?"

"Please never touch me again."

"Oh. Right." She glares at him. "Will do." She leans against the counter, staring at him as a disapproving look crosses her features. "I should go."

"You should."

"I'm on scut."

"Yes."

He stays cemented in place until she brandishes the box of latex gloves at him. "_Now_."

He covers his neck with his hands. "Going, going. Good grief…"

She waits for the sound of the closing door before exhaling deeply.


	10. I Who Have Nothing

I know Addison says she didn't talk to Richard for a year because of the baby thing, but she seems more mature than Izzie and Izzie talked to her after a few months, so I can't help but think that something extra might have triggered it.

And I can really see Addison admiring Adele's strength and poise.

**I Who Have Nothing**

Addison admires Adele Webber. She likes to watch her as she waits for lab results at the nurse's station, her body casually leaned against the desk as she aims her eyes at the floor by Adele's feet, disguising her true target. The woman has a majestic presence and the same quiet grace Addison's always envied. She's polite, with a sweet smile and the power to know the perfect thing to say in any situation. Were she a doctor, Addison thinks she'd have impeccable bedside manner. More importantly, however, Adele has the ability to get whatever she wants with the slightest infliction of her voice.

Addison has studied her carefully – she raises her eyebrow slightly, inclines her head toward Richard, and adds a subtle undertone of unspoken "or else" to her words. She tried the technique on Derek once, but he only stared at her and then laughed.

She can't help but wonder if Adele had ever been laughed at.

Today, however, Addison isn't examining her. She's thinking of the newborn that died under her supervision after Richard had entrusted her with its care. If she were to glance over, she would see Richard's head in his hands, a guilty expression on his features, and she would see the foreign look of fear and uncertainty in Adele's rich chocolate eyes.

She doesn't notice Adele walking up to her, she doesn't notice when the woman pauses beside her – she only becomes alert to her presence when she reaches out slowly, her fingertips hooking a strand of Addison's red hair. The intern turned towards her, watching Adele's scrutinizing eyes carefully.

"You're pretty," she says absently, and Addison can almost feel a threat beneath the seeming compliment. Adele blinks for a moment, frowns slightly, and releases Addison, walking away slowly. When she thinks she's out of earshot, she adds, "Prettier than _she_ was."

Addison stares after her, and then looks at Richard. The hallway is silent except for the sound of Adele's heels, and as the words echo in her head, Addison thinks that she might never look at Richard again.


	11. Back Where I Was

Here we go. Seattle. Inspired by the conversation she has with Izzie in 2.06, Into You Like A Train (salmon scrubs!).

**Back Where I Was**

The interns call him "McDreamy".

It's almost embarrassing now, even though she would have thought the nickname cute in New York. She might have used it in jest, laughing and looking at him through bedtime eyes. In New York, she would have been proud of her husband being a hospital heartthrob – she would have found it humorous. In New York, being married to a man called "McDreamy" by his subordinates might have re-ignited the spark in their marriage. She would have joined the interns, at least in her mind.

Now she won't dare to even speak the word.

McNicknames are Grey's area. Addison does her best to avoid mention of the pretty young intern, the one with the starry eyes and broken heart. Even more, however, is the fact that Addison knows the truth. Her husband is no McDreamy. He is not McPerfect; he is McFlawed and McDamaged.

And the damage is her McFault.


	12. The Story

Wow. All I can say is 'wow'. I mean, I knew it would happen eventually – Addison had her spin-off to go to and all, but…wow. Mark's maturity and … wow. Wow. Wow. Wow.

The Story 

Addison's never seen interns like these. All five have the potential to be great surgeons, and yet they're some of the most headstrong individuals she's ever met, let alone taught.

Izzie Stevens is brash and emotional. She gets too close to her patients and doesn't think twice when she's crossing the line.

Cristina Yang is a bloodhound. She's competitive and vicious; a great surgeon but a pitiful human being. She's a standing violation of hospital hierarchy – she's about to become Mrs. Preston Burke.

Meredith Grey has all the makings of a great doctor, even if she's no Ellis. O'Malley had good bedside manner – usually – but poor social skills. And Alex Karev? Alex is barbeques and catch. The anti-Mark.

Or at least that's what she used to think.


	13. Ceremony

This one is alluding to chapter 9 (Here It Goes Again) and _The Scarlet Letter_. Song by New Order, although it was written when they were still Joy Division (the last song Joy Division's lead singer/songwriter ever wrote), and off the Marie Antoinette Soundtrack (I'm loving it…decent movie, too).

Ceremony 

Addison's mother has been humming the words "Something old, something new…" under her breath for months; she's heard the words so many times that she almost believes that insipid superstitious rituals can protect her marriage. Maria lent her a clip for her hair, and she's bought a pale blue garter belt instead of green, her favorite color. She's borrowed her mother's veil and purchased a gown from the cute boutique around the corner of the hospital. She tells herself that she's done everything she could – after all, that's the point of juju.

She stands behind the closed chapel door, attempting not to slouch as her father stands beside her, his hand on her forearm. She grips her bouquet tightly as the wedding march starts and the doors are pushed open. She steps carefully, trying not to crush the petals on the carpet and stain the hem of her crisp, white dress. Then she sees Sloan's eyes following her and realizes it's a waste of time.

She might as well be wearing red anyways.


	14. Oceanside

So, my thoughts on the spin-off: just no. As much as I love Taye Diggs, the characters were 2D and dull, the setting too bland and sterile, and the premise seemed to be as barren of creativity and ingenuity as Addison is of eggs. Of course, I realize people out there will disagree (and, if you do, feel free to leave a rebuttal in a review), I just hope that Shonda and ABC decide to keep Addison where she belongs, SGH.

Song by the Decemberists (I think?).

**Oceanside**

She and the sun have never been friends. Once, when Addison was twelve, she slathered on half a container of tanning oil and lay out on the shores of the Hamptons. She'd been envious of her friends' rich, cinnamon brown complexions the entire summer, and now she'd finally be able to look like them. Or so she thought; instead, her skin had turned an angry pink shade that clashed wonderfully with her hair, and she never went out tanning again.

It had been fairly easy to avoid the sun in New York, where there were no beaches and she spent all of her time in examination rooms and ORs. Seattle, too, was blissfully sunless, full of rain and clouds and the ability to wear long sleeves most days of the year.

And then there was Los Angeles, where you couldn't escape the sound of crashing waves or look up, for fear of being blinded. Los Angeles had friends, but Los Angeles was sunny. Los Angeles meant no sleeves and sunscreen and sweat.

Los Angeles was the enemy.


	15. Grace Kelly

Finally got caught up on season one a couple of weekends ago, which means that I've now seen almost every episode of Grey's Anatomy at least twice and all of the episodes at least once. I feel so proud, haha. Song by Mika.

By the way, now that Private Practice has been confirmed for Fall (Wednesdays at 9, I think), I'll say this probaby has one or two chapters left dealing with post-finale, and then it'll be dead, since I can't really see myself watching PP. ...I'll miss her.

Grace Kelly

When Addison was a girl, she loved to watch old black-and-white movies – the glamour of Marilyn Monroe and Jean Harlow, with their fair skin, red lips, and platinum hair, mesmerized her, even when they only appeared on the screen in shades of gray. They were icons of class and beauty, and it made sense that, in a time when she felt she had little of either quality, she dyed her hair to match the old screen sirens.

She'd taken the day off of work, curling her hair at the ends and smearing red across her lips as she waited for the sound of the door unlocking, surprising him in the foyer of the penthouse.

"Do you like it?"

He smirked and kissed her, putting his hand on the small of her back as he led her to the bedroom. "Quick, before my roommate gets back."

And suddenly she didn't feel as classy anymore.


	16. Sweet Young Thing Ain't Sweet No More

In the S2 finale, I can't remember if she said she could or couldn't remember the night she lost her virginity, but I'm going on the assumption that she couldn't (although I think that it was Adele who couldn't, or maybe Addison just remembered that it was bad…I digress). Song by Mudhoney.

**Sweet Young Thing Ain't Sweet No More**

Addison can't remember the first time she had sex, but she can remember the first time she had sex with _him_. She remembered the guilty way she'd slid into the house the next morning, praying that Derek hadn't bothered to come home and had, instead, remained in the on-call room. She prayed he wouldn't notice.

The first time she slept with Mark Sloan, she was drunk and he took advantage. Of course, Mark argued that he was the one plastered and she had, in fact, been the one taking advantage, but she knew better. Or so she believed. Either way, booze was definitely involved.

They had been friends, in a strange, twisted, not really friends sort of way. She was upset that Derek was never home, Mark was upset because that was just how Mark was, and she ran to him because there was no one else willing to do shots of straight vodka with her at five o'clock in the afternoon. She had started crying, the crying had led to the drinking, the drinking to the talking, and then she couldn't quite bridge the gap from being harmlessly tipsy in the kitchen to dangerously passionate in the bedroom.

The second time she slept with Mark Sloan was Derek's second straight week of forty-hour shifts, and that time she was sober. Shockingly sober. Unbecomingly, indiscreetly, ashamedly sober. The truth was, Mark Sloan offered a very tempting type of therapy. Mark Sloan was even more scary and damaged than Addison, and the idea that she would survive if Mark survived was soothing, especially as he seemed to be thriving in her presence. Mark was pleasure free from pain. He was sneaking out of your parents' house at fifteen and making out in parked cars. Mark was fun, Mark was free.

And, in her defense, Mark started it. He was the one who touched her with his dirty manwhore hands and he was the one who kissed her with his grimy, Casanova lips and he was the one who'd reached up and wiped a stupid tear off of her cheek.

Mark was the one who chased her when she left for Seattle. Mark was the one who'd lied about the bet to save her integrity.

She likes to say Mark started it, but she knows that isn't true.


	17. Clean Getaway

I enjoyed the season finale, to a certain degree. I think that Callie getting Chief Resident was way too random to be realistic, I _really_ don't want T.R. to leave because he and Sandra Oh are the best parts of the show (I'm thinking there might have been a mix-up in the test results, but that might just be too optimistic for _Grey's_), and I still think that Burke asking McDreamy to be best man but not putting George in the wedding party at all didn't make very much sense. Please, please, _please_ let there be no O'Callie baby so that O'Stevens can get together, I'm getting sick of MerDer, and, of course, there was way too little Addison and Mark.

I'm going to miss Addison (although not enough to suffer through an hour of _Private Practice_ every week) and wanted to thank everyone for the reviews and support; it was great! Keep me on author alert, as I'll be doing more _Grey's_ fics this summer.

Song by Maria Taylor and used in "Desire".

Clean Getaway 

Weddings were supposed to be beacons of hope, a symbol of love, and, having heard Preston's vows earlier that morning, she had really believed that it would be. She thought that even she, with her fossilized eggs and divorce and bitter angriness, would enjoy it.

But then she saw Derek's mouth forming the words "getaway car", which was like saying "quiet board" in a hospital or "Hamlet" in the theater. She noticed the apprehension in the grooms face and saw that all of Cristina's friends who weren't standing in bridesmaid's dresses on the other side of the door had either left or not bothered to show up at all.

She was noticing the juju.

First, the bride never walked down the aisle and then Addison watched as Preston walked back across the church alone, his head hung in disappointment. She saw Meredith march up without the woman she calls "her person" and Addison knew it was over before Meredith said a word. Yes, Alex was being sucky and Cristina was heartbroken and Meredith was in the process of breaking Addison's ex-husband's heart and Stevens and O'Malley were quietly destroying her best friend, but that wasn't what cemented things for her.

She knew because Mark hadn't shown up like she'd asked.


End file.
